The coastal road north from Perth to Geraldton in Western Australia is well paved and frequently traveled. But on Day 2 of 17 days in a rented Mitsubishi Outlander, I turn east into the unknown. It will be 40 C. (104 F.) minimum on this two-lane road straight into the Outback, with few towns and fewer places to fuel up along the way. I turn from Geraldton east toward Cue (population 100 – except during the holidays), my initial destination, when the bells and whistles go off. Not in my head, but on the dashboard. This is Level 1 of what I call The Five Levels of Rental Car Anxiety.
Level 1 – WARNING! My heart jumps as the car bells blare. I mean, this is a pretty new car. Isn’t it bad enough that I’m sitting in the passenger seat, passing on the right and turning on my wipers whenever I need to change lanes? Now this? Just as I head into the inferno? The warning bells blast for 30 minutes. I drive on, trying to ignore them. Sometimes they pause. Then, just as suddenly as they stop, they’re back. I like to think that (on occasion) I’m a pretty sharp tack. What could it be? There’s no Owner’s Manual in the glove compartment (of course). And I don’t have a signal to check YouTube. on my phone After nearly an hour, I have an idea. I had loaded up the cooler and placed it in the back seat. Could it be one of the newfangled sensors thinks there’s a person sitting there? Without there seatbelt on? I pull over and fasten ALL the seatbelts. My luggage also is in the back seat. The bells magically go silent. I long for my simple, sensor-less 2001 Audi.
Level 2 – OUT OF GAS: The next palpitation occurs when I pull over to fill up. Each town, or outpost really, usually has at least one gas station. The question is, does it have fuel. Many stations in the bush were out of diesel, which screws the people in their mostly-diesel powered caravans (campers). And opportunities to refuel in the Outback are rare. At this unattended station in Yalgoo (est. 1896, pop. 313), the pump says “24 Hours.” There’s sort of an ATM look and feel. Insert your card. Enter the pump number. Fill ‘er up. But my credit card is not working. I try several. One by one, all declined. Now what do I do? There’s an 800 number on the pump, but I can’t figure out how to dial it on my USA-centric phone. It’s not as simple as Country Code, City Code, Number. There are zeros involved. Finally, a dust-covered road worker arrives in his truck. He tells me what to do. I watch. He fills up. I try again. Fail. What do I do! The last card in my wallet is a debit card tied to my Chase checking account. I literally got this card via FedEx the day before my departure, to avoid ATM and other foreign transaction fees on credit card cash advances. Lo and behold, the debit card works. I select an amount from several choices – AU$100, which should fill it. To get a receipt, you put your card back into the slot again after you’re done. Strange. But my blood pressure returns to normal. It’s getting late.
Level 3 – BAD WEATHER: The next thing I see are clouds. Dark, ominous clouds. These two lane roads are prone to flooding. They go up and down. Every once in a while you go through a dip with a “Flooding” warning sign and a tall white measuring post used to measure the depth of the water on the road. That’s why every vehicle here (except mine) has a snorkel. The rain starts to fall. My blood pressure goes back up. There’s still a 100 miles to go. What’s next?
Level 4 – NIGHT DRIVING: The sun is on the horizon. It’s going to be dark soon. Will I make it before sun down? One of my rental car rules is to never, NEVER drive at night when outside the USA. There are just too many variables: Road conditions and my waning night vision, to name two. Additionally, rental car agreements in Australia make it clear you are NOT covered for any mishaps that may occur during the night. That was a new one to me, but I put my initials down just the same. So now it’s raining hard. At night. And still 50 miles to go. My heart is pounding.
Level 5 – ANIMALS: There’s a reason the rental car companies don’t want me to drive at night in Australia: Animals. Lots and lots of animals, big and small. I had already passed at least a dozen dead kangaroos on this road to Cue. The kangaroos come out at dawn and dusk, they said. I had my high beams on, scanning the horizon for night eyes, those two little glowing dots. But it’s not easy to see animal eyes at night, through heavy rain and the swish of windshield wipers. How much more of this can me and my Mitsubishi take? Could there possibly be a Level 6? I’m exhausted.
And then I see it. The sign reads “Cue.” Somehow, I’ve made it. Through the warning light beeps and blinks; perplexing fuel pumps and the obstacle-laden dark and rain. I pull into the Cue Roadhouse (Motel, Post & General Store). My container room awaits. Exhale. Time to rest.
